It sinks slowly

A wobble in descent below the surface

Indicates an uneven distribution of weight

Not as perfect a pebble as it felt in the palm

Not quite so round as the ripples above suggest

From the lake shore I watch as the rings of water gradually move apart


Today everything was still until I lobbed the stone

Rolled it from my hand

Last contact the very tip of my forefinger

The silent arc of the small white rock

Drew my eye up

Then down to the surface


A mallard with green head turned, beak tucked onto back, bobs on the soft disturbance

Sleek gull, fine wings slicing the air, makes a half-turn

It looks down at the change in the lake’s skin

Nothing worth bothering about it decides

So re-corrects its glide and sails on

Flutters with a squawk to perch on the wooden jetty


As the first weak ripple dissolves into the shingle

I feel a tear form

As if the watery dissonance had run on

Unbreaking to my soul

Salty rheum stinging my cheek

And I remember you being here too

Playing ducks and drakes

Counting the bounces

Delighted at the skimming stone discs

Before the inevitable sinking


CLP 13/01/2019

n.b. What lies beneath? See below